#literally this is true (here but also in worm)

[il3x]

Legend.

(Pic credit to @/queer.nproud on instagram)

[ladymortimer]

this is so not my week not so my anything this has been going on for 2 weeks when shall the Lord be merciful upon my soul again

[marlenesluv]

book lover. (LN)

summary: you’re a booktuber, always posting about your books, coffee, music, and of course, your amazing boyfriend, lando norris.

warnings: none!

note: i’ll probably write another book reader for daniel as well. (the polls were close and idk i think they’d both be cute.) also, another note, haley pham, sara carroli, and destiny sidwell are bookstagram/youtubers, so keep that in mind while reading. this is for my taylor swift and books lovers, cuz me too.

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: landonorris, haleypham, and 246,275 others

y/n.user: “and it would’ve been sweet, if it could’ve been me”

view comments…

landonorris: are you breaking up with me????

|> y/n.user: HUH??

|> landonorris: the caption??????????

|> y/n.user: thats a taylor swift quote, lan. and it’s about the book i’m reading

|> landonorris: you NEED to update me on these posts before you post them

|> oscarpiastri: he was literally running around the paddock thinking you were mad at him

|> y/n.user: oh no, my baby 🙁🫶

haleypham: i cant wait for your new video :))

|> y/n.user: :))

|> booksfan: Y/N AND HALEY COLLAB????

georgerussell63: how on earth did you take a picture of your phone with your phone…

|> y/n.user: that’s not my phone….

|> georgerussel63: we’ll it isn’t landos?

|> y/n.user: i have other friends besides lando

|> landonorris: *boyfriend*

|> y/n.user: right, he’s also my only boyfriend

readerpop: live, laugh, love, y/n <3

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liked by: y/n.user, danielricciardo, and 346,015 others

landonorris: my little book worm🫠❤️

view comments…

danielricciardo: what book is she reading, lando?

|> landonorris: i think “the tales of the housewives”?

|> y/n.user: i’m reading THE HANDMAIDS TALE LANDO

|> landonorris: i was close

f1wagsupdates: OUR book worm, actually

landonorris.fanpage: they are too damn cute

carlossainz55: mate, i think she rather read than be with you rn😬

|> landonorris: she said she’s “escaping reality”

|> oscarpiastri: so “escaping you”

|> landonorris: what

|> y/n.user: THATS NOT TRUE, STOP STRESSING HIM OUT

formula1.fp: cutest f1 couple

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liked by: landonorris, des.sidster, and 251,947 others

tagged: haleypham

y/n.user: new video out with haley!! we read, drank wine, played uno, and suffered listening to lando and ryan talk about football🙁

view comments…

haleypham: literally, suffered. but at least we got reading time

|> y/n.user: so true

f1.edits: am i obsessed with the fact that y/n gives us lando snippets? yes, yes i am

|> y/n.fans: just wait, she said a while ago that she’s posting a video from game night with the grid

|> y/n.fp: is that even still happening??

|> y/n.user: mwahahaha, soon

|> y/n.fp: i think i j shit my pants omg

landonorris: everyone go watch my girlfriends new video!! she’s so pretty and cool and awesome and sexy and funny and adorable and etc

|> charles_leclerc: there isn’t a better promotion for this video

|> y/n.user: thanks lando! my boyfriend is also so pretty and cool and awesome and sexy and funny and adorable and etc!

|> landonorris: you think i’m pretty?🥹

|> y/n.user: my pretty boy

|> landonorris: ive passed out

|> maxfewtrell: YOU BROKE MY BSF

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liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 401,284 others

landonorris: date nights consist of book shopping, reading, and y/n taking pictures of me in a golf cart!

view comments…

y/n.user: good thing you’re the photographer in this relationship

|> landonorris: and you can read enough for the both of us

f1wags: cuties are being cuties

bookstagram.edits: so y/n has GOOD book taste, i see

alex_albon: i think y/n has an eye with the camera

|> landonorris: don’t lie, alex

|> lilymhe: at least y/n can read

|> y/n.user: GO OFF QUEEN LILY✊

formula1updates: pls pls why are they so sweet, WHY AM I SINGLE

carlossainz55: how did you manage to get a girlfriend who reads and deals with you

|> y/n.user: he offered to buy me books, so i give him gf content

|> carlossainz55: ah yes, this makes sense

|> landonorris: thats not funny

|> y/n.user: hehe

|> landonorris: let’s see how “hehe” that is when i don’t cuddle you tonight and throw ur books away

|> y/n.user: NO MY BOOKS

|> carlossainz55: AHHHAHAHA MATE OMG

|> landonorris:…..cuddles……

|> y/n.user: I MEAN- OH NO I NEED MY CUDDLES

f1xupdate: omg the comments HELP

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y/n’s instagram story:

seen by: landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 324,048 others

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liked by: landonorris, saracarrolli, and 399,824 others

y/n.user: “he was sunshine, i was midnight rain” (lando its just a t.s. song lyric i love you.)

view comments…

landonorris: i love you more☺️

taylorswift: you guys are adorable! i wish you nothing but happiness and love <3

|> y/n.user: TAYLOR!? OMG YAYWBFLWNR KENT FI CSMT OWKFKS HELP DIDKSD OMGBRODK

|> pierregasly: uh oh, taylor broke y/n….

|> des.sidster: OMG Y/N TAYLOR AHHHHHHHH

|> y/n.user: IK AHHHHHH WKEKDOSK IABRFKDJE

|> maxverstappen1: lando. your girlfriend is glitching

|> landonorris: she’s sobbing in my arms, she’s more than glitching, mate

f1.edits: i am LIVING for taylor being here

y/nxlando.fans: where did taylor, mother, come from?

y/n.user: GUYS TAYLOR FOLLOWED ME. TAYLOR ILY AND I HATE JAKE GRRRR JAKE

|> arthur_leclerc: GRRR?????

|> olliebearman: i get it

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(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[deerspherestudios]

I’m super curious about Atom!!!! Firstly, they’re so cute :(((( I would be so nice to them right off the bat. I could match that energy (maybe not the…liquefying people part, but I can Definitely meet the upbeat “get to know you” energy!!!!)

But I’m also curious about their little “worm transform-y” ability. There are a TON of implications to what they said about it, and I’m very interested to know which of those implications are true

So maybe I’m taking Atom too literally, but I’m pretty sure at one point they said “I can make your air.” Which, they WOULD need to make MC air, if they were to keep you in space forever. Air is limited.

But you can’t breathe in worms. So that means Atom’s worm (body?) transformation legitimately BECOMES whatever they will it to. Not just imitates. That dog food wasn’t worms, it was dog food. And the air isn’t worms, it’s air!!

And then that stretches into other questions. Could Atom take any form they wish? What would happen if they transformed all their worms? Can they feel when their worms (body??) are being transformed?

You don’t have to answer that slew of questions at the end lmao—maybe I’m reading too much into it. But!! I LOVE Atom and all the implications that their existence holds. I had a lot of fun playing the game :DD

Aaa I'm really glad you like Atom as much as you do!! I don't know if it's just new blorbo energy but I get excited to talk about them, especially in detail like this haha! I'll try to explain below the cut about their ability to create things (tw// it's long!!) but to keep it short, you're actually correct!

TLDR: Atom reconstructs their worms into different forms of matter (whether solid/liquid/gas) to produce whatever you need to survive. Because, uh,,, science. <3

Here's the lengthy explanation of what Atom can do. I'm not smart enough to explain it but I'm stealing this from another website:

Transmutation or nuclear transmutation is a process that involves a change in the nucleus of an atom. When the number of protons in the nucleus of an atom changes, the identity of that atom changes as it is turned into another element or isotope.[1] This transmutation process can be either natural or artificial.

Simplifying it further for my character, when Atom talks about being better than a planet, they kinda are! They can make anything as long as they know what it is (I've yet to come up with 'how' they discover new elements,,, it's implied in-game but I wanna flesh it out more; ask me again later keheh), and the worms that make them up is an unlimited resource/material for those exact transmutations. And if something turns into waste, like the rejected dog food, they just crunch them up to be re-used all over again.

Remember what they said about being your 'angel'? Not to be too on the nose but in a way they turned the Bidadari into your own personal terrarium, with it being the ecosystem keeping you alive in space. Which, in my personal opinion, makes the ending much more terrifying.

Here's a lightning round to answer your questions because I don't know when I'll get these kinds of questions again!!

Could Atom take any form they wish?

Nope! They're still just worms! When they 'make' something it's no longer a part of them.

2. What would happen if they transformed all their worms?

Highly unlikely to happen, but let's say for experimentation's sake Atom is forced to use up all their worms and the end result is separated from it so they can't absorb it back into themselves like the dog food. It has to leave one single organism behind, but it can't really do anything. That single organism eventually will multiply all the way back to its former (mass wriggling) glory.

3. Can they feel when their worms (body??) are being transformed?

Nope! They don't really feel anything, at the most they feel pressure and temperature changes but that's it.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TEDTALK HAVE A NICE DAY! HERE'S YOUR REWARD <3

[frankendykez]

what annoys me about posts on the novel frankenstein in this site (besides the blatant ableism towards victor frankenstein from people who swear they "care" about disabled people) is the amount of readers that forget that the bride, had victor truly put her to life, would in fact have the same amount of autonomy & free will as the Creature does.

i talked about this in some reblog before but really it is incredibly annoying, seeing people who claim to be feminists and advocating for the rights of women saying that oh! victor should've just not given her ovaries/not given the Creature a cock and so that would fix everything! so they shan't be able to reproduce an dmake evil moster children! just in response to this one thing in that chapter:

"one of the first results of those sympathies for which the dæmon thirsted would be children, and a race of devils would be propagated upon the earth, who might make the very existence of the species of man a condition precarious and full of terror."

it is true that victor worries about them reproducing, but how did they miss these lines from the first paragraph of the chapter?:

 "He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man, and hide himself in deserts; but she had not; and she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation. They might even hate each other; the creature who already lived loathed his own deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence for it when it came before his eyes in the female form? She also might turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man; she might quit him, and he be again alone, exasperated by the fresh provocation of being deserted by one of his own species."

it's literally longer, reader can't have somehow accidently missed it? frankenstein thinks of her free will, that is so much more important. he worries of her consent in the matter. it is in my belief by ignoring this you are ignoring the voice of mary shelly, daughter of a world known feminist, who is against arranged maariages of which this situation very closely resembles.

even if we ignore the fact that people somehow managed to not read a significant amount of the text, why do people belive the victor owes the creature a wife? do you think men are owed wives? that women, without a say in what they want to do, must become a wife to some random man just because he wants her to?

people here woobify the creature so much that they literally act extremely ableist and anti-feminist on accident. i am not saying the creatture is pure evil and victor is pure good, i am very against black and white readings, but is this not common sense? and honestly, the way the creature speaks about the bride is gross anyways. here are two examples:

"one as deformed and horrible as myself [would not deny herself to me]" & "(…) of the same species and have the same /defects/".

is that not odd? how the creature Wants her to be miserable and ugly so she has no other choice but to be with him?

not to mention how the bride parallels elizabeth and the relationship between her and the creature would've probably parallels the relationship of alphonse and caroline frankenstein, how the creature would've (accidentally?) groomed her and how pedophillic it kind of is if you really think about it. but that's a whole different can of worms

i know you guys love adam and hes interesting but jesus fucking christ

[egcdeath]

out in the open

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: your wedding night doesn’t go as smoothly as you expect it to. succession au - tomshiv adjacent (previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3)

word count: 8.8k

warnings: failmarriage, fluff in the beginning, cheating, angst, jealousy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol and smoking, suggestive content, insecurity, patrick is kinda the worst in this. he does get better though.

author’s note: full disclaimer things are pretty angsty and they only get angstier from here. cheating is a major plot point from this point forward. there will be a few happier moments but it’s mostly bad vibes and tension from this point on.

i say this with every fic i post in this universe but i truly could not have written this without the help of my succession anon!! weddingnightgate (WNG) is such a big moment in this au and they really helped me get my thoughts in order and helped me world build. i hope you all enjoy the upcoming pain!

When you were young, you always dreamed about your wedding. You fantasized about a huge venue somewhere halfway around the world that would easily fit all of your closest friends and family members and of celebrity guests who would give you well wishes for the marriage and smiled at you in spite of their envy at your beautiful event. You imagined a gorgeous, intricate dress with a train so long that you’d need assistance going down the aisle, a cake the size of your tallest guest, and a groom who was as handsome as he was loving, pressing the promise of True Love’s Kiss onto your lips after he read you his vows.

Maybe your enthusiasm for weddings was fueled by a few too many movies where the princess found her prince charming and lived happily ever after with him, but you still fell in love with the idea of love, and the thought that a wedding should be as beautiful as the love itself was.

You would never forget the first wedding you attended, despite being so young that you shouldn’t have really recalled it. You somehow managed to worm your way into being the flower girl at your aunt’s wedding, skipping excitedly down the aisle of the beachside venue, tossing flowers with reckless abandon. As you watched the rest of the ceremony from the safety of your mother’s hip, you couldn’t help but to imagine yourself being the one to walk down the aisle someday. 

Much like your first wedding memory, you also couldn’t forget the first time you learned about divorce. Though you were young, the memory of your best friend crying next to you during recess as she sobbed out the news that her parents were splitting forever stuck out in your mind. You’d been fed the idea that love was strong and everlasting for so long, that the very notion that there were some things that love couldn’t withstand rocked you to your core. 

From that point on, you became more grounded in your approach to love. Love was rarely a fairytale, and it was naive for you to assume that your future wedding would be one either. 

As the years went by, you grew more realistic about your expectations for the future. You found a boyfriend who you dated throughout the latter half of your undergraduate years and through your time in business school, and fully expected to settle down with him—though you knew you’d be settling in the most literal sense. While he was a stable figure in your life, he was boring, and his aspirations in life for both you and himself didn’t align at all with what you saw yourself doing. He wanted a wife, and you wanted to make a name for yourself doing the work that was meaningful to you.

When he got down on one knee in front of you, you realized that you had two options in front of you: follow your own dreams or follow his. 

Naivety be damned, you chose yourself and never looked back. 

In your pursuit of making your non-love related aspirations come true, you abandoned all hope that your pipe-dream of a fantasy wedding would ever come to fruition. It occasionally felt like your hopes were incompatible—to be a successful businesswoman meant giving up all prospects of a romantic life. It seemed like everyone you encountered was put off by your lack of work-life balance, or wanted to hunt you for sport and turn you into a trophy wife. 

You’d practically given up all hope by the time you met Patrick, fully expecting to be able to use him for a brief fling and a connection to get into his family’s company. What you weren’t expecting was to find someone whose company you genuinely enjoyed, who understood you on a level you hadn’t experienced with anyone else, and a love that occasionally left you wondering if you were a protagonist in the movies you loved watching as a girl. 

If someone told you that years after meeting Patrick, that one day you would be gazing into his eyes with tears in yours as you listened to his vows, or telling him that you do take him to be your husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death did you two part.

Your wedding ceremony felt straight out of your girlish dreams, with Patrick’s beautiful family castle serving as the venue, paparazzi-worthy guests, a dress that felt like a direct product of your wildest imagination, and a groom that seemed to be as close to a prince charming as reality could get. 

You were on cloud nine throughout the ceremony, basking in every single moment. You felt like you were floating by the time you got to the reception, your brain in the clouds as you and your now-husband cut your massive cake and gave toasts. 

It was all a blur in the best way possible, your elation making what you thought might be an embarrassing moment of a first dance exciting, and the subsequent socializing with guests substantially more bearable. 

What was slightly less bearable was the speed at which you were separated from your husband, the two of you occasionally catching the others eye from across the room, but otherwise being separated from surprisingly demanding guests who wanted to wish you luck on your marriage or excitedly share how amazing they found the ceremony to be. 

Occasionally, you were able to squeeze in a brief moment with your spouse, bringing him a flute of champagne and momentarily pulling him away from an exceptionally chatty shareholder, but you seemed to be frequently whisked away from each other. 

After what felt like a lifetime apart from each other, you felt the familiar, comforting warmth of Patrick’s hand on your lower back as he approached you from behind. When he announced to the extended family members standing across from you that he needed a moment alone with you, you almost leapt with joy. Nothing seemed more appealing than a private conversation with him after a long night of socializing with friends and colleagues. 

It almost felt ironic that during an event that should’ve been focused on the two of you as a pair, you were separated and kept apart by people with business pitches and opposing interests, excited to hop onto whatever opportunity your union might bring them. 

Patrick took you by surprise as he led you up the stairs and to your bedroom. It seemed a little early to begin your wedding night festivities, but if he was really that enthusiastic about it, you were certain that you could share some of his excitement. 

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” you commented as you shut the door behind you. “So much for not talking about work at the wedding. I guess it’s too much to ask for one day to celebrate you being my husband before talking about the business again.”

You walked over to the vanity, preparing to touch up your makeup. You shot a glance over at your partner, who cautiously sat himself down on your bed, fidgeting with his hands as he did so. Not paying him any mind, you began to reapply your lipstick in the mirror and looked at his reflection, catching that he seemed to be in deep thought, but not thinking too much of it. It was probably something a shareholder told him. Maybe his sister was planning yet another attempt at a hostile takeover of the business. 

“Husband. Wow, you’re my husband now. That feels so crazy to say. Husband, husband, husband,” you mused, a ball of excited energy.  “Well, husband, what did you pull me in to talk about? Is it Sherry’s dress? It’s really hideous. I can’t believe she would wear something like that to our wedding,” you continued to ramble. “Or do you want a sneak peak of what I’ve got going on under this dress?”

You were shocked to find Patrick mostly unresponsive to your rapid words. He was never one to turn down the opportunity to gossip about his social circle or flirt with you. You pulled your attention away from yourself in the mirror and turned your head back to look at your husband, only to be met with a mostly unreadable expression, apart from the hint of a sad smile on his face. 

Suddenly, things didn’t feel so fun. For some unexplained reason, you felt a small pit appear in the depths of your stomach. While you didn’t know exactly what was wrong, something obviously didn’t feel right. There was no reason for your partner to be looking as unsettled as he did on his own wedding night. 

“You’re not having second thoughts already, are you?” you stood up and began to approach him from where he was sitting on the bed, making it more apparent to you that his brows were drawn together in what could only be the beginning of a frown. 

“Of course not,” he assured you, though guilt was written all over his face. You weren’t sure how you should interpret your husband looking like a child who just broke an expensive vase on your wedding night, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “But I need to tell you something.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, the small pit that appeared in your stomach growing into a slightly larger pit. As much as you wanted to dismiss it as nothing, the heavy tension hanging in the air warned you that the odds of his confession being nothing were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment.  

“Uh,” he paused as if he was considering his next words very carefully—almost as if he didn’t want to say them at all. You desperately wanted him to speak, rather than keep you hanging. With your nerves exponentially growing with every passing second, you began to feel like if he didn’t say anything soon, you might throw up all over your reception dress.  

“Patrick, please spit it out. You’re kinda scaring me,” you could already feel yourself growing upset, despite the fact that he hadn’t said a single word to indicate what was going on with him. Your heart quickened in your chest as you anticipated his next words, despite not having a clue about what might come out of his mouth.  

“We always said that if something happened, we could handle it like adults,” the statement was vague and simple, yet Patrick seemed to be choking it out. His cryptic message rattled around in your brain as you desperately searched for meaning in them. Before you could even begin to ask him what he meant, you registered the dismissive, callous language. 

Though he didn’t say it often, he had confused you with those very words before—the verbiage alarmingly reminiscent of what he told you before your bachelorette party, or when you brought up the lack of an infidelity clause in his prenup. 

If anything ever happened with anyone else, we could both handle it. We’re adults and we can handle things like adults.

Though his words were curious, you dismissed them at the time, never expecting that to be an issue. Of all of your problems with Patrick—his difficulty expressing his emotions, his complicated relationship with his family, his lack of experience in love—you never expected infidelity to be one of those problems. 

You swallowed, your saliva feeling thick and poisonous as it slowly crept down your throat. “Honey, what do you mean?”

Patrick didn’t speak, looking down at the pristinely folded sheets in front of him rather than at you. “I’m sorry,” was all that he managed to get out. 

You looked at Patrick blankly, waiting for him to tell you that whatever you were assuming wasn’t true or that he was pulling some sort of cruel prank on you. Instead, all you were met with was the sound of blood urgently rushing through your ears and the faint bassline of whatever song the DJ was playing at your reception. 

“You know that love is complicated for me,” he looked in your direction, but couldn’t sustain eye contact with you. “Can we be adults about this?”

Once it became clear to you what exactly Patrick was trying to tell you, your knees gave out on you, the rest of your body overwhelmed with the unfathomable information that your brain was trying to process. Patrick cheated on you—and he was telling you just hours after you got married. 

The truth of the situation sucked the air right out of your lungs and the strength right out of your body. Your knees buckled under you, and you desperately seeked out anything you could sit on. You settled on the foot of the bed, across from where your husband nervously sat. 

“Fuck,” you dug the palms of your hands into your eyes, surely smudging the makeup on your eyelids as you attempted to collect your thoughts. “Who was it?”

“It didn’t mean anything to me,” he pathetically attempted to explain away. It all sounded like gibberish to you. For all you knew, your husband was speaking a totally different language to you. 

Despite your question and Patrick’s non-answer, you somehow felt like you knew exactly who he’d been with. The answer was all over his discomfort when he saw you talking to the woman without him by your side, and the way she sized you up and attempted to psych you out of marrying Patrick not even 24 hours ago. 

“Was it Tashi?” you asked, not even listening to his empty words and keeping your face frighteningly neutral. You spoke the words like you were playing a round of Guess Who, calm and even despite the budding feeling of dread in your stomach. 

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. His deafening silence was answer enough

“Can I kick her out?” you asked with an alarmingly stable tone, still mostly unable to process this information, but knowing that it wasn’t good. 

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, head still hung and unable to make eye contact with you. 

As you took in the truly depressing sight in front of you—your husband’s hunched over posture, a shame so strong that he couldn’t even look at you, and his clipped, short answers—you couldn’t deny that you were tempted to comfort him. In any other situation, if Patrick was feeling a fraction of the negative emotion he seemed to be feeling in that moment, you would instantly be at his side, holding his hand reassuringly or holding him close in a way that told him that if no one else was there for him, you would be, but you weren’t sure you could legitimize his bad behavior with such a response. 

Instinctually, you reached out to touch him like you’d done a thousand times before, giving him a hug before a big event or spooning him after a family member said something that got under his skin, but you instantly reprimanded yourself. Despite how sad he looked, Patrick was the one who hurt you. You were the one who deserved comfort. 

You opted to pat Patrick’s back instead, a strange and impersonal action. For a moment, you felt less like his wife and more like a practically estranged family member, not sure how to greet you after meeting you for the first time three Thanksgivings ago. 

Your husband barely reacted to the stiff action, only looking at you wordlessly with glossed-over eyes. You got up from the foot of the bed and left wordlessly and neutrally, a robot whose only orders were to get out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you. 

The moment the door closed, the next goal settled into your mind—you couldn’t let Tashi spend another second in the venue, socializing with your family and drinking the wine that your parents so kindly provided to the wedding, as if she hadn’t been partaking in an affair with your husband. 

You felt half a bride and half a zombie as you left the confines of the bedroom and wandered the hallways. You were stone faced as you made your way back to the reception, trying to wrap your head and heart around devastating information that was shared with you at the most inopportune time possible. 

You made a slow march down the stairs, movement hindered by your dress, and imagined what you might say to Tashi once you saw her. You should’ve known something was off from the start. You should’ve trusted the bad feeling you had when she sized you up at the bar, smirking at you like the cat who got the cream before feeding you anecdotes about how sleazy your husband used to be for no apparent reason. You should’ve trusted that feeling when Patrick rushed over to pull you away.

You wished you paid attention when Patrick faintly smelled of feminine perfume when you surprised him by coming back from a business trip earlier than anticipated, or when you noticed a bracelet that didn’t belong to you sitting on your coffee table, one that disappeared the very next day. It was so easy to write the signs off at the time–the fragrance of your personal chef and the jewelry of one of his sisters–but it no longer felt that simple. Patrick was a lot of things, but you never expected that a cheater was one of those things.

The thought of Patrick with someone else made you nauseous, especially in your own home. You faintly wondered if they’d fucked in your bed or on the couch. If the answer was yes to either, you desperately wanted to burn the pieces of furniture. In fact, that would be the first thing you set out to do when you returned home after your honeymoon. Maybe you would even beg Patrick to move to a new place, one not haunted by the memories of him and another woman. 

That was, if your relationship even survived through the honeymoon. Let alone the night. You didn’t have a clue what your next steps would be. Would you be the fool who stays with a man who proved himself to be disloyal? Or would you be the fool who offered herself to the wrath of one of the most powerful families in the world? You would lose your husband, your job, and your livelihood in one fell swoop, surely being banished back to your family home in Minnesota, destined to be a receptionist at your father’s law firm for the rest of your life. 

The entire situation felt surreal in the worst possible way. You couldn’t believe that while you were dealing with the aftermath of this information, Tashi was waltzing around at your reception. More than that, you couldn’t believe the information itself: Patrick cheated. Your fiancé cheated. Your husband cheated on you. 

The same Patrick who became a groomzilla, laser-focused on giving you your dream wedding, cheated. The same man who confessed that he didn’t know what love felt like before he met you cheated on you. Your husband, who went out of his way to do anything to make you happy, even at the expense of his very powerful family, hadn’t been loyal to you. 

None of it made sense. Maybe you would walk back into the room and your guests would jump out from behind tables and reveal that this was all a cruel joke—a little hazing as you officially became a Zweig—their laughter filling up the room at the thought that you would ever believe something as ridiculous as Patrick cheating on you. 

You bit back bile as you walked into the room, the party continuing on the same way it had before you left and before you reentered—no prank to be found. The cacophony of loud music and the chatter of your guests filling your ears once more—what felt fun and exciting just moments before, now being far too overstimulating for someone trying to process information that could fundamentally alter the course of their relationship. You did your best to block out all of the extra noise and focus on your goal at hand. 

Find Tashi. Send her home.

You weren’t sure what you would actually do when you saw her. Would you yell at her? Slap her for being a homewrecker? Cry at the sight of her? Laugh at the absurdity of your husband telling you that he’d been having an affair with her on your wedding night?

Peripherally, you heard someone call your name excitedly, only slightly pulling you out of your trance. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to acknowledge whatever excited friend or family member as your eyes set on your target. Tashi Duncan, Patrick’s coworker and ex-girlfriend.

Where you admired her beauty and confidence just a day before, you found you now resented every positive aspect about her. As she stood by a table and talked to one of Patrick’s sisters, surely bored out of her mind by the delusional ramblings about his sister someday being the president, she nodded and smiled diplomatically. 

As you really began to think about it, you realized that she was the perfect candidate to be Patrick’s wife. She came from a background similar to his, his sisters liked her far more than they liked you—though that didn’t mean much—and physically, she seemed to be exactly your husband’s type. 

Part of you wondered if she was feeling as miserable as you were; if she’d spent the day imagining your wedding to be her own, if her own jealousy was blinding her the way that yours currently was blinding you, or if she’d begged Patrick not to marry you during their work meeting the previous night. The other part of you wondered if she thought of you as pathetic as you currently felt—a stupid woman so blinded by her own love that she overlooked every beaming, bright red flag.

Your pace quickened as you walked towards Tashi, heels clicking annoyingly as they marked your pace. As you made your way to the table, you found yourself growing more anxious, the first real feeling you’d felt since Patrick shared with you the truth about his infidelity.

“Hey,” you greeted Tashi and Patrick’s sister, voice surprisingly even for how agitated you were. “Mind if I chat with Tashi?” 

“Go ahead,” Cornelia shrugged. “Let’s stay in touch?” she asked Tashi, who politely agreed and watched the other woman walk off. 

Tashi opened her mouth to speak to you, presumably to comment on something asinine about the wedding, or to make an observation about your wedding that you’d already heard a thousand times that night. If you weren’t so upset, you would make a bet with yourself on whether she’d tell you how beautiful the wedding was, or how beautiful you and your husband looked at the altar.

“Your housing for the night fell through,” you explained in a very level tone. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was what came out of your mouth.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding more than a little skeptical, before lifting her drink to her lips. “Do you know where else I might be able to find lodging at this hour?”

“No,” you replied quickly and with ease. “Actually, it’d probably be best if you just went home now.”

“Home like…?” she trailed off and eyed you curiously. 

“Like back to New York. I’m sure you can find a flight.”

She laughed in slight disbelief. “You realize this is a work function for me, right? I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you can do that work back home,” you dismissed, not backing down. By now, it was clear that Tashi was putting together the pieces of what you knew. In fact, you could pinpoint the exact moment when it occurred to her why the two of you were having this conversation in the first place.

Maybe it was the lack of your now-husband beside you, or the barely concealed emotion on your face. Regardless of what was your biggest tell on the situation, you continued to stare her down, resenting the way her lips shifted into a small smile, as if she still had the upper hand and knew something that you didn’t. It was almost as if she found the whole ordeal to be a little amusing, which only bothered you more. 

“No need to make a scene at your wedding. I’ll be on my way.” She lifted her glass up once again to finish the drink off, but you stopped her. 

You returned intense eye contact with her as you took the stemware right out of her hands and put it to your own lips, finishing the drink in a few large gulps. Though your action was impulsive, it felt like somewhat of a necessity. You desperately needed the liquid distraction from your less-than-ideal situation, and you didn’t want to give her an excuse to linger at your party a single moment longer than she needed to. 

She continued to stare at you, her expression somewhere in the middle of being impressed and weirded out. “Alright then. Well, congratulations on the wedding.”

“Fuck off,” you spat out, turning on your heel and walking away without bothering to see if she stayed or left. 

You made your rounds around the reception, smiling and talking to your guests with a fake smile plastered on your face. The shock of Patrick’s initial confession wore off shortly after you told Tashi off, but you still couldn’t help but feel completely numb to the situation. How else were you supposed to react when you found out the love of your life was sleeping with someone else? 

You continued to man the reception on your own, occasionally scanning the room but not catching a glimpse of your husband. You wondered if he was still in your bedroom, head in his hands as he wondered if he just opened a Pandora’s box on your relationship, or if Tashi went to go find him to discuss how poorly you reacted to the information. For all you knew, the two of them could be laughing at you or having sex in your wedding bed at the same time that you attempted to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. You grew faint at the mere thought. 

Eventually, you felt a familiar hand on the small of your back, something that typically was a welcome, comforting gesture. Instead, you wanted to flinch away from his hand like it was hot. You couldn’t believe that Patrick had the nerve to touch you like everything was fine after dropping such devastating information on you. Then again, at least he wasn’t hooking up with Tashi one last time. 

Still, even under the spell of a sadness that hadn’t quite settled in yet, you leaned into his touch instinctively. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t feel as comfortable as it did a few hours ago. 

“Such a beautiful ceremony,” a family friend of Patrick’s gushed to you. “You two have something really special.”

You felt Patrick’s eyes sear into you, desperately pleading for you to look back into them and show him that everything was going to be okay. That what you had was special enough that you’d be able to move past this. Like adults, as he said to you earlier.

You weren’t so sure that you could. 

The rest of the night moved painfully slowly. Where the two of you socialized separately before his private conversation with you, he seemed to be attached to your hip now, bringing you apology offers of champagne flutes and hor d'oeuvres.

Though he pleaded with you to handle your situation like adults, you wanted to act more like a petulant child. If you had it your way, you would reject his offerings of food by tossing them onto the floor, or throw a glass of sticky alcohol in his face as if you were a Real Housewife. 

If you had it your way, Patrick wouldn’t have cheated on you in the first place, and you’d be celebrating your wedding without the baggage of uncertainty for the future of your relationship. 

As you walked through the reception, you weren’t particularly angry or sad, you just felt numb. There was a strange concession in knowing that what happened in the past already happened, and that there was no way for you to change your husband’s behavior. For a moment, you wondered if the numbness was a symptom of the shock that was Patrick’s confession, or you would feel the dull thud of nothingness for the rest of your life. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you watched the last of your guests filtered out of the venue, relieved to finally drop the façade of being a happy newlywed and to embrace the true feeling of shock that had been biting at you all night.  

Somehow managing to break away from your suddenly very clingy spouse, you wasted no time gathering an unopened bottle of wine for yourself, along with a cigarette and a lighter, which you unceremoniously exchanged with a caterer for a Venmo payment. You then headed outside to a balcony that overlooked a beautiful sprawling garden. 

You looked out on the neatly trimmed hedges and the bench where you sat with Patrick not even twenty-four hours ago and distantly thought about how perfectly the night should’ve gone. You got married at a beautiful venue, had every detail down to the positioning of napkins meticulously planned, and most importantly, were marrying someone you genuinely loved and couldn’t see yourself living without. 

It was all rather devastating now, to see how just a few words managed to ruin what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. 

You took a swig from the bottle, lamenting the fact that his affair partner had been drinking this very wine earlier that night. At the thought of Tashi, you took yet another hefty swig. 

Just as you reached for the lighter to light the cigarette you so desperately needed, Patrick burst through the doors of the balcony, slightly out of breath and sweat beading on his forehead. In between his heavy breaths, you swore you caught a sigh of relief. 

You couldn’t say that you were pleased to see him—after all, you’d escaped to the balcony to get a little time alone and to think through the night—but as you took in his dramatic entrance and disheveled appearance, it became abundantly clear to you that he’d been urgently looking for you. 

“Want some?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle. Your question was more than just an offer for a drink, but a peace treaty, offering Patrick to stay outside with you despite your more complicated feelings towards him. 

“Sure,” he agreed, still slightly out of breath. He collected himself as you passed him the bottle, locking eyes with you as he took a swig from the expensive drink. It felt like time moved a little slower as you watched his lips wrap around the opening of the bottle and the way his Adam's apple bobbed while the drink went down. 

You suddenly realized that complicated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt towards Patrick. You loved him more than anything, and you were sure that you needed him in your life—but beneath the thick layers of numbness was a reservoir of hurt, far deeper than you ever imagined you could harbor for the man. 

He passed the bottle back to you, his hands gently brushing over yours. Momentarily, you felt scandalized by the action, unsure if you should feel your cheeks heating up from the small touch or if you should flinch away from it. By the time the brief moment was over, you hadn’t done either, electing to set your gaze back over the rail instead of at your partner. 

Patrick stood silently beside you, not requesting anything more to drink or even attempting to make small talk. It seemed that he was just as aware as you were that he’d changed your entire dynamic with just a few words. You wondered if he realized just how much he’d fucked both of you by fucking someone else. 

You shivered in the cold night, your dress not providing you much coverage in the elements. If your wedding night had gone any differently, Patrick would’ve offered you his suit jacket, draping the item over your shoulders and kissing you sweetly. Then again, if the night had gone differently, you likely wouldn’t be shivering on the balcony in the first place. 

You squatted to set down the bottle on the ground and rediscovered the cigarette and lighter. Though you weren’t usually one to smoke, you desperately needed it after the shitshow that was your wedding night.  

Though you put the stick to your lips, you struggled to light the cigarette, the frigid breeze making everything slightly more difficult. It didn’t help that you hadn’t smoked since you were a teenager, giggling with your friends as you clumsily attempted and failed to light up the stick, the match pinched between your fingertips quickly burning down. The contrast between the silly memory and your far less silly reality felt jarring, to say the least.  

“Here, let me,” Patrick said softly, taking the lighter from you and cupping his hand around the tip of the cigarette. You tried not to look at him too closely as you listened to the soft clicking sound of the lighter. Though he should’ve focused on the action so he didn’t burn his finger tips or the palm of his hand blocking the wind, he didn’t seem to be able to look at anything but you. The light of the flame briefly illuminated both of your faces, momentarily giving you a better look at his sad eyes. 

You inhaled as the flame touched the tip, and turned your head to exhale the smoke, not wanting to blow it in the face of your partner or have to spend another second under the scrutiny of his intense eye contact.

Even as you looked away and into the garden below, you could feel Patrick’s eyes burning into you. You were sure that if you looked back over at him, you would see him looking particularly downtrodden, lips parted for words that were on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite say yet, and eyebrows drawn together in a way that only seemed to highlight the sadness in his eyes. 

Unspoken questions lingered in the air like the smoke from the cigarette dangling from your lips. Though you didn’t care for the smell, you were pretty sure you preferred the smoke to the questions. 

Finally, a quiet question was spoken into the air,  “Can I?” Patrick asked, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips. 

“Sure,” you replied noncommittally as you pulled the cigarette away from you and passed it to your husband. Electing to watch him instead of the unchanging garden, you observed as Patrick’s lips closed over the space where yours had just been, covering the hint of a lipstick stain that you’d left on it. After a long drag, he passed the cigarette back to you, his hand brushing softly over yours once more as you did so. 

This pattern continued, a heavy silence falling between the two of you as you shared the cigarette, your hands caressing the other’s softly.

“Here,” you murmured as you approached the filter. Instead of passing it back to Patrick, you brought it up to his lips, watching him intently as he breathed in the smoke. 

For a moment, all you could see was his face, illuminated by the burning end of the cigarette, pupils blown with something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to ravish him right there on the balcony or push him off of it.

He blew the smoke right back into your face, electing to still share the last of the cigarette with you. You wondered if that meant anything. It probably didn’t. 

The two of you stood looking at each other, staring wordlessly as you waited for the other person to move a muscle or say something—anything. For a moment, you considered telling Patrick that you wanted an annulment. But then again, that wasn’t exactly the truth. 

“I’m going to bed,” you broke the silence with your announcement. “I need to change out of this dress.”

You wished it were that simple. You desperately wanted to scrub the day off of you and to pinch yourself until you woke up. Surely, this couldn’t be your actual wedding night. Maybe you could wake up in the morning and find that this was all a bad dream—the manifestation of anxiety before your big day.

But, as Patrick trailed behind you in the hallway as if you would disappear if you left his sight, you were pretty sure that this was the reality. You wouldn’t wake up and find that your husband had been loyal to you. 

Your return to the room was a silent one. The moment you stepped foot through the door, it felt like you were back in that horrible moment; like Patrick was moments from revealing to you that Tashi was the tip of the iceberg. 

Bile rose in your throat once more. You made a beeline to the bathroom, hoping that the change of scenery might halt your thoughts altogether. 

You stepped out of the bathroom with an entirely different mindset than what you had as you entered. Sure, your wedding night wasn’t at all what you expected it to be, but it didn’t mean that you couldn’t put it back on the right track. In the bathroom, you slipped on a silky nightie, what you hoped would be a reminder to both of you that this wasn’t any old regular night, but your wedding night. Though, with the day you just had, you weren’t so sure that either of you would be up for a particularly romantic night. You guessed it couldn’t hurt. 

You left the bathroom as a woman on a mission, your eyes set on Patrick as you crossed the bedroom floor to get to him. Though he’d been laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it had the secrets to the universe written on it, the sound of your entrance drew his attention over to you. You gently bit your lower lip and hoped that your face said ‘sexy’ rather than ‘so nervous you might be sick.’

His eyes stayed locked on you as you crawled into bed, and you hoped once more that the action of you moving towards him on your hands and knees didn’t appear as desperate as you felt on the inside. 

It felt like your evening consisted of one desperate plea after another: Please don’t do this to me. Please just pretend that everything’s fine. Please don’t leave me. 

He followed your lead as you trailed your hand up his arm and looked at him as seductively as you could manage before pushing him down onto the bed and straddling his lap. Distantly, you wondered how Tashi imitated things with him—if she did anything that Patrick liked more about her than you. You did your best to push that thought away, but failed miserably. 

Mechanically, you ran your hands through his hair and kissed him passionately. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat and reminded yourself that it was just Patrick. Things weren’t all that different, except for the fact that he was your husband now—and that he cheated on you.

You tried once more to push that thought out of your mind as you moved your hips against his lap, but your attempts were in vain. It certainly didn’t help that as you kissed him, you tasted the cigarette you shared earlier in his breath—an unwelcome reminder of the awkward tension that lingered between the two of you after he shared the truth about his infidelity. And surely, it was just your mind, but his lips almost tasted like the chapstick of another woman. 

Suddenly, all you could think about was Tashi with your husband. Him and Tashi in your bedroom, or in a hotel room, or on your couch. Did she do anything special that drove him crazy? What did she have that you didn’t? 

Your body said one thing, but your brain said something completely different. You did your best to power through the thoughts of your husband being with another woman, but you were beginning to realize that when it came to cheating, you weren’t all that tough. You bit down on Patrick’s lip in what you hoped would be a light nibble, but the taste of iron quickly filled your mouth. 

You slowed down your movements as your thoughts sped up before you gave up entirely. You supposed it was a classic case of mind over matter, and your mind was not nearly as strong as any of your physical urges. 

You shifted off of Patrick far later than you should’ve, feeling like a complete and utter failure. You couldn’t even do the one thing you should’ve been able to do during your wedding night. No wonder he found solace in someone else’s body. 

“I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

It took you rolling off of Patrick to realize that his face was damp, eyes glossy with a thin layer of tears threatening to fall. The pit in your stomach that had been steadily growing since Patrick pulled you aside to tell you something finally came to a head when you realized that your husband was crying.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable of his question. 

A fresh tear rolled down his cheek, which was then followed by a few other droplets. He turned his head away from you and wiped them away quickly so you wouldn’t notice them, but the damage was already done. 

You’d never seen Patrick cry before—not when you watched sad movies that left you bawling, not when the two of you watched advertisements for puppies in shelters, not even when he thought his dad might be dying. To see him shed tears over you felt particularly unsettling. 

“Patrick?” you said his name softly, like he was delicate and going to break. 

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he looked towards you once more, eyes now rimmed with red. “I ruined everything already. I'm so sorry.”

This was a complete wild card on top of a stack of wild cards. If someone told you that your wedding night would end with your husband telling you he cheated on you, a pathetic failed attempt at sex, then watching your partner cry for the first time in front of you, you would’ve laughed in their face. 

His crying continued, becoming slightly more intense as sorrow racked through his body. You’d never been in a situation like this before, so you were completely unsure of what to do. 

With all prior restraint to show him physical affection gone, you awkwardly slotted your arms around your husband. He automatically leaned into you, burying his face in your shoulder as he continued to shed quiet tears. Your shoulder quickly grew damp as you threaded your fingers through his curls, the repetitive petting being just as soothing for you as it was for him. 

Despite it all, you still felt a general sense of nothing at all. You were beginning to grow concerned, knowing that deep down there were certainly emotions that weren’t ready to approach the surface. You worried about what it might look like once those feelings finally came out, but that was the least of your worries when it came to your weeping husband. 

Patrick continued to cry quietly, the only sound in the room being his soft, occasional sniffles. You couldn’t even place how you felt or how long you sat there stone faced as you cradled your husband. 

Eventually, the tears on your shoulder dried and the intervals between sniffles grew further and further. Soon, the soft sounds of weeping turned into the long and deep breaths of rest. Between you playing with his hair and holding him, he must’ve fallen asleep. You couldn’t really blame him—given your eventful day, your all-nighter the previous day, and the energy it took for him to cry. 

You gently laid Patrick back down on his side of the bed, pulling a blanket over his chest and pushing back the hair on his forehead to press a kiss to him. He stirred slightly against the forehead kiss, but didn’t seem to wake up all the way. Even when your feelings were complicated towards the man, you couldn’t help being affectionate towards him. In some ways, you felt like you needed that affection just as much as he did. 

You let out a long sigh as the reality of everything truly began to set in, and you no longer had to be strong for your weeping partner. You couldn’t wrap your head around the sight of Patrick crying for the first time, or the fact that he cheated on you. You flicked off the bedside lamp, the only source of light in your otherwise darkened bedroom. 

You rolled over in bed and laid on your back, setting your hands on your stomach and staring up at the ceiling. You traced your eyes over the pattern of the ceiling, though it was dark and not all that clear. You wondered if you looked at it long enough, if you’d be able to make some sense out of it. You glanced over at Patrick and wondered the same thing. 

You just couldn’t understand why he’d cheat on you. You’d always been under the impression that he was just as happy in your relationship as you were. Despite his promiscuous past, he never seemed like the type of person to not be loyal to you.

You noticed a teardrop trail down his cheek in his sleep, and you gently thumbed it away. The small movement turned into you tracing a line down his nose and over his lips, then over his eyebrows and back down through the few freckles that dotted his face. Maybe if you watched him long enough, if you learned every detail of his face, someone would reveal to you why he’d done something so illogical and cruel. 

You worried about how the two of you could move forward from something like this. Though Patrick always approached the topic of infidelity with a dismissive attitude, cheating had always been a deal breaker for you in your past relationships. It shattered your trust in a way that was so foundational, you couldn’t fathom a world where your relationship with Patrick stayed exactly the same after this. 

Part of you knew already that moving forward, you’d constantly wonder if he was genuinely working late or if he was having an affair, or if his eye was wandering at events despite you standing by his side. And that was just trust when it came to relationships—obviously his lie was far deeper than just that. Now, you knew that Patrick had the capacity to hold a secret that massive from you, then share it at the worst possible time. 

In fact, his timing felt so terrible that you momentarily wondered if it was some sort of power play. Was Patrick trying to remind you that you weren’t equals in this partnership? Was he trying to manipulate you by only sharing this information to you after you were married to him and couldn’t easily call everything off? 

Your stomach turned at the possibility that Patrick wasn’t really who he said he was, and that you’d been baited and switched. You recalled the first time you met Patrick’s family, how he switched on a dime and became far more calculated and cruel to them than you’d ever seen him be with you. Was that the realest version of your husband, and the person he was with you just a façade? Was this some sort of long game he was playing with his family to piss a few people off? Did Patrick even love you?  

For the first time in your relationship, you felt like you didn’t know who you were sleeping next to. Surely, this couldn’t be the same Patrick who you set out to have a quick hook up with, and ended up talking to him for hours. It couldn’t be the same Patrick who held you tight at night and gave you kisses every morning in your kitchen. The same Patrick from your vows a few hours ago, whose hands shook as he read from notecards and declared his love for you.

You frowned as you looked over Patrick once more. You resented how he was able to sleep so peacefully after inflicting such hurt on you. Did he even understand how destroyed you were? You couldn’t see yourself sleeping through the night in the foreseeable future, your head too filled with questions about your relationship and questions about his relationship with her. Would they continue the affair? Would they still work together after this, leaving you to wonder for the rest of your life if they were still going behind your back?

You desperately wished the thoughts would stop, but they kept coming, punctuated by the sounds of Patrick’s soft snores behind you. 

By the time the sun began to peek through the blinds, your hand was on Patrick’s face once again. You wondered how it was possible for him to hurt someone he loved as much as he loved you, if his definition of love was so skewed by a lifetime of abuse labeled as love from his parents, and siblings who used cruelty as a form of affection. 

Maybe you should’ve listened to the warnings everyone gave you, from your parents who warned that your husband and his family may be more than you bargained for, from his sisters who never seemed to be able to fully wrap their head around Patrick committing to someone, let alone you. Maybe you should’ve even listened to Tashi’s coded warning about his inability to commit and stay loyal. It seemed like everyone saw the fate of your relationship coming except you. 

With the early morning light illuminating the room, things felt a little clearer for you. Beneath the numbness that protected you the previous night was a more painful undercurrent of hurt that was already beginning to eat away at you. 

For the past several years of your life, you hadn’t had to deal with any painful feelings on your own. Patrick was always there beside you to hold you tight and reassure you that everything would be okay. As you laid next to him, you realized that despite all the pain he’d inflicted on you, all you really wanted was to be held by him. 

Knowing that he was sleeping peacefully beside you, you opted to hold him, draping your body over his and pulling yourself as close as you could manage to him. You leaned your ear against his back, taking in the warmth he gave you and listening to his heart beat. As the two of your breaths and heartbeats began to match the other’s pace, you lamented that even now, your hearts beat as one. 

For the first time that evening, your eye prickled with the threat of tears. 

You lost track of how long you held your husband, but it was long enough to notice the pattern of his breath changing. You’d woken up beside him enough times to recognize that he was clearly awake, yet he made no other indication to you that he was awake. He wanted you to hold him. You wondered if he thought this might be the last time you ever do that for him. You wondered if it was the last time you’d ever do that for him. 

The two of you pretended to be asleep despite the fact that you were both obviously awake, but no one commented on anything. After your arms began to grow numb, you turned your back to Patrick, hoping that he would return the favor and give you what you really wanted. You were pleased to find that he just as eagerly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and breathing quietly in your ear. 

The two of you sat in complete silence, pretending you didn’t know what the other person was doing. Somehow, it felt like that was about to become a recurring theme in your relationship.

[antianakin]

I watched Dune: Part Two over the weekend, and I came to realize something: Anakin Skywalker has a lot in common with Paul Atreides, and none of them are good.

Funnily enough, I was also making comparisons between Dune and Star Wars when I saw it this weekend, but more positively. Not necessarily specifically between Paul and Anakin, but in the ways the two stories subverted the Chosen One storyline.

In Star Wars, Anakin is the Chosen One and it IS a good thing, but it's not INEVITABLE unless Anakin chooses it. He HAS to make the choice to be a good, balanced, selfless person in order to achieve the perfect prophecized ending. It is impossible to achieve it through brute force of will or selfish agendas.

In Dune (based purely on the story in the films, I have not read the books so I cannot speak to what the story was in there if it's different), Paul is the Chosen One by design of other mortal people around him, he is the Chosen One because they CREATED a Chosen One through specific breeding and manipulation of cultures and religions. They literally achieve their prophecized ending through brute force, Paul becomes a messiah by forcing himself to ride a sand worm, by killing and defeating the opposing forces on the planet, by using Fremen as weapons in a holy war, by drinking poison and coming out of it alive. The subversion here isn't in how the prophecized ending is achieved, but in how it was CREATED and the fact that achieving it is a BAD THING.

Anakin chooses to DEFY his destiny out of selfishness while Paul chooses to GIVE IN to his destiny out of selflessness, and then they both end up villains as a result. Both of them made their own choices, but were also manipulated onto this path by forces they couldn't control and people they should've been able to trust. They're both left feeling like they're out of choices and so the only one left is the one they KNOW is bad.

But I find myself somewhat more able to sympathize with Paul because he tries SO HARD throughout the entire film to keep this from happening, he knows exactly what's going to happen if it does, and in the end, he's just outplayed basically. He'll never be a match for the greater forces at play until he becomes one of them, and at that point he's lost in every way that matters. It's a completely lose-lose situation for Paul the way I saw it. Even with the visions, Paul has had multiple visions come true before he has the one about the holy war, and has a lot more reason to believe that it's true due to Jessica's training. And it felt like when he drank that poison that some part of Paul almost literally did die, that someone else came back to life in some ways and that's part of the whole tragedy. He's almost possessed by the powers around him by the time he declares himself Emperor.

The same is DEMONSTRABLY not true for Anakin. Anakin walks into the darkness with his eyes open and his head held high because he believes HE ALONE will benefit from it. There's no selflessness in this choice in any way shape or form. He has had ONE VISION come true that we know of before he gets the dream about Padme and the Jedi notoriously do not believe visions to be all that trustworthy to begin with, so all of his training tells him that just because ONE vision came true still doesn't mean that THIS one is true and even if it were, he can't trust that any action he takes to keep it from happening will actually have that result. But he's selfish and greedy enough to try anyway, to discard everything he's ever been taught, for power. He convinces himself that doing this makes him a hero, that murdering the Jedi, down to the last child, makes him a hero. There's no evidence that doing what he's doing will save Padme, or that Padme would even WANT him to do this to save her. He's not truly outplayed, he had all the tools at his disposal to make the better choice in that moment in Palpatine's office, he's just not a good enough person to make it. He IS a match for the greater forces at play in terms of power, he and Mace could've EASILY killed Palpatine together if only Anakin had chosen the better path. He just... chooses not to because it doesn't benefit him to do so. Anakin could've won, in every way that mattered. He only loses because he makes the stupidest choice imaginable.

Dune is a political sci fi epic about how people in power will literally create messiahs for the people they intend to subject as a way to consolidate their own power.

Star Wars is a children's cautionary tale wrapped in an space opera adventure about how letting your fears control you will bring about your own destruction, and only kindness and selflessness will save the world.

It's not exactly a secret that Lucas was inspired by Dune when coming up with Star Wars, so I find it really interesting to look at the similarities and differences in how they each approached their Chosen One storylines.

[vashtijoy]

I wanted to ask if you could clear this up for me, if you play in third semester and you get to Maruki's Reality, we see Akechi appear to turn himself in on Christmas Eve so, Im not sure exactly why we dont see him do so when you go back to The True Reality? what was the reason for it, Im not clear on it a bits

Hi! In short, Atlus want to maintain the mystery of whether Akechi is canonically dead or alive. Thanks for your question!

... okay, okay. More seriously, Akechi arriving on Christmas Eve is the first use we see Maruki make of his enhanced power. Akechi is present in Shibuya to take the rap for Ren because Maruki puts him there. So when that is later undone, Akechi is no longer there—and Ren was arrested and detained, all along. Just as he was in the vanilla game.

but doesn't maruki's reality start on 12/31?

We-ell... kind of. As he says in his 1/1 journal entry, Maruki finally merges Mementos with reality late on 12/31, when Ren has his dream about the butterfly. But he's already using his new power before that point, to do nice things for his friends, the Phantom Thieves.

It's not just Akechi in Shibuya. The Christmas Eve party in Royal is very different from its counterpart in vanilla—well, sure. Ren's not in detention, so the whole mood is different. They talk about Akechi, but then they just move on to have fun. Well, it is Christmas.

But the New Year's party is a strange sequence of pleasant events. Futaba calls it "an actual, real-life good ending"! We hear not just that Ren's conviction is likely to be overturned, but that Shido is to be prosecuted for the crimes he confessed. In February, of course, Sae will tell us that it took months just to document his confession, and that he's being prosecuted only for breaches of electoral and funding law.

Something else to note about the Royal Christmas and New Year events: to my ear, they have a glib, superficial tone. Don't you think so? Matters of import come up, but the team move past them, to talk about trivialities, about their party and the fun they're having. It's kind of nice; this is who they might have been without the weight of responsibility, of grief. But equally, that weight should be there.

This is illustrated in the script. Both events feature a long string of sound effect emotes:

These SE lines are never translated, but what you see here is Joker, Ryuji, and Ann laughing—waraigoe, the sound of laughter, literally "a laughing voice". This laugh, on New Year's Eve, continues through the whole group, not just the Phantom Thieves but also Sojiro and even Sae.

Coincidence? There are group laughs later, after Joker is released, and at the big confidant party. But those are just attributed to 全員 zen'in ("everybody"), or 一同 ichidou ("all present"). These lists of identical laugh lines at the start of Maruki's reality are just a little bit unnerving. By the time of Maruki's bad ending, those brief lapses into reality, with all of its unpleasantness, are gone.

So yes, in small ways, Maruki is using his power even before he merges Mementos with reality late on 12/31. And here's one last thing to pay attention to on 12/24. You know how Maruki alters reality itself, by altering people—by changing everyone's cognition so that the world agrees on its new nature? Watch Sae, during this scene.

She's surprised, sure—but she never seems surprised that Akechi is alive. She's just surprised that he's turning himself in. In the vanilla scene, on the other hand, she explicitly says that Akechi is missing. Ren can bring up that Akechi is back from the dead, but Sae doesn't seem to care!

Wheels within wheels.

so where's akechi in the "real" timeline?

Can of worms. Which "real timeline"? There are two, depending on whether or not you maxed Akechi's confidant. In the vanilla timeline, you don't get him to rank 8 before the engine room, and he dies behind the door. But in the Royal timeline, you do get him to rank 8, and you keep your promise, and that gives Akechi the will to live.

(Yes, this is what I currently believe. And more than that, I think it's the true meaning of that creator interview, "the player's feelings are equivalent to the protagonist's cognition". It doesn't mean that guy on the platform can be a randomer in his school uniform or a ghost!—it means there's one route where he's dead, and one where he's alive.)

In the game as released, we don't know where Akechi is. But in his February deleted scene—where he's clearly alive—he tells us where he was, for precisely this reason.

He wasn't in Shibuya at all. He was at this refuge, wherever it is, going into hiding. He wasn't around to save Ren.

If this scene had been left in, this would have been the moment Akechi came out of safety, out of hiding, and gave up on his life—to do what's right once more, to confirm his 12/24 decision, and face justice in Ren's place. If you think Maruki altered him, and he would never have turned himself in otherwise—watch this scene again. Yeah, we were robbed.

what else does akechi say?

On 2/2, Akechi tells us how it happened:

Let's take a quick look at that line in Japanese:

Akechi けど、君たちと戦ったあと⋯{F1 82}ともう一度会うまで僕の中にハッキリした記憶はなかった。 kedo, kimi-tachi to tatakatta ato... [Ren] to mou ichido au made boku no naka ni hakkiri shita kioku wa nakatta But after I fought against you all, I had a gap in my memory that ended with meeting up with [Ren] again. [lit. But, after I fought with you and the others… until I met back up with [Ren], I had no clear memories.]

hakkiri shita—"clear; distinct; vivid; plain; explicit; well-defined; sharp; loud and clear". hakkiri to kioku shiteiru—"to remember clearly". hakkiri shinai kioku—"unclear memories". hakkiri shita kioku—"clear memories".

Note that well. Akechi is not saying that he remembers nothing. He's saying he remembers nothing clear, which is substantively different, and not conveyed well by the English "a gap in my memory".

(He also switches address mid-sentence—in the first half of the line, he's addressing Ren as kimi ("you"), but then he cuts off, and addresses him as Ren. It looks like he switches from talking directly to Ren to talking to Maruki. And if you remember him being a dick about that moment on 1/2... this might be the line that reveals that actually, yeah, their promise in the engine room really did matter to him.)

Akechi believes he's dead on 2/2; I think there can be no question of that. There isn't a big reveal that he was alive all the time. And you can't even get this scene if you didn't max his confidant, if you didn't keep the promise—if Akechi didn't survive.

But there is an afterlife in the Persona universe, from which characters have even spoken—so I'd like to hear a little more, some day, about these "unclear memories" of his.

but how can he be alive

Bear in mind that the third semester looks identical (besides that engine room flashback on 1/2), regardless of whether or not you maxed Akechi's confidant. That's to say, whether Akechi dies in the engine room or not, the third semester does not change.

That means that everyone's perceptions of it cannot change. That includes Akechi. If he was dead and Maruki revived him, then he has no memories before he awakens in Shibuya, because he was dead. But if he wasn't dead—if he was at the refuge we see him at in the deleted scene, or in Hawaii, or on the Moon—if Maruki believes that he was dead, and attempts to revive him based on that conviction—

Well, then he creates a world where Goro Akechi died behind those shutters, doesn't he? A world where Akechi remembers nothing before he awakens in Shibuya, because now he was dead for those weeks. A world where, even though you saved him, Akechi died in the engine room. Just like in the vanilla timeline.

revision history

Click here for the latest version.

v1.2 (2024/07/13)—wording.

v1.1 (2024/07/12)—added a bit about how akechi bookends 1/2 and 2/2.

v1.0 (2024/07/12)—first posted.

[big-box-of-kinda-silly-fop-ideas]

Just wanted to make like a proper way bio thing for peri (irep coming soon probably if i bother)

I would write fanfiction but uh idk if i could so these are more like characters notes

real long post below

Peri is a highly independent adult, he doesn’t like being coddled or touched without any warning and isnt the type to ask for help at all even if he really needs it. He’s an extremely closed off person using the suave act as a way to personally seperate himself to others which he developed due to his celebrity status, the suave personality also acts as a way to keep face as he never knows where could be camera. He pretends this cool collected guy, that can worm his way to getting anything (which is true) that has everything under control but in reality he’s this kinda dorky dude, that always anxious on how people perceive him and his grades. He’s an overachiever, after the initial first baby born hype died down he’s mostly known as the really smart youngest fairy in existence, he’s was an academic weapon throughout spellementary school and hs (im basing his education system off mine which is only two schools no middle 4-12 and 12-18) and came to uni with overconfidence in his educational abilities. Theres one thing thats consistent between his suave act and his actual self which is he’s petty as hell and very snarky, you can try talking him down but he’ll roast you back or give you a vaguely threatening threat. As well as being a bit prideful and vain, like he knows he’s pretty and smart and cares a lot about his appearance.

In this uni au he’ll be a bit of a static character he doesnt grow much, and struggles with demonstrating his affection or his struggles. (Which is why dev and peri dont exactly work much cause peri is overcompensating on how much coddling he got, and show affection in a more subtle way that dev doesn’t need as he need a more direct way (and heres a thought i dont think peri wouldve ever said he cared for dev unless delirious) ) . But he’s more openly affectionate with his parents cause he loves them. What he mainly goes through is humbling, he starts fairly prideful and overconfident but starts to slowly crumble from the pressure and anxiety. As in he doesnt say no to anything, hes somehow always busy or doing something, he also studies not enough and too much (crams shit in) and he also got his celebrity things to do. Another arc will be opening up to Goldie and Irep (but they'll be his only friends) cause he doesnt learn shit about how to socialise without depending on the act. He’s also easily frustrated, if things dont go in the way he wants he gets frustrated at himself, like he really put his self worth on his abilities to do things and less on who he is as a person. Like everyone praised him for his intelligence, charm, talent, magic and appearance, like he hates being coddled but he likes being praised, while irep doesnt get praised and seeks getting praised. But that doesnt change the fact he is a genuinely nice-ish person he just doesn’t like disappointing people, especially those close to him but he’s got a bit of an ego but not in a narcissistic way but in a young adult way where he doesnt exactly think for others first but for himself because he doesnt want to disappoint people. (Which is seen in battle of dimmsonian where hes more worried about being seen by his parents and his career choices then dev). Which is also why he’s a stickler to the rules, like he doesnt want people to think he’s bad person but also jorgen literally drilled it into him that breaking the rules is bad. Like he’s the type to do it right by the books, that comes from him being a bit of a people pleaser, and genuine concern of him messing up his perfect facade.

Speaking of Goldie, i would describe their relationship as fairly close. It takes a while for the either of them to open up to anything personal but they start off as friends of mutual benefits. They use eachother as study buddies, people to hang out with and to talk about their slightly weird interests. And the more they go through uni the more they will confide with each other. Like i imagine a tipping off point for their friendship is when peri finally breaks and gets like a panic attack, Goldie will be there to boost him up. Irep is also their friend but he’s in it more to best Peri or to piss him off. Irep is one of few to see through his act and knows how to break it.

Like genuinely i do think hazel and peri may be counterparts to each other like they both lost their sibling figure, both overthinks scenarios and both want to be appear more mature then they actually are. Like i want anw to be where he grows the most because he’s more challenged to question his behaviours and habits, especially with how these traits affect his and dev’s relationship for the worse.

[luvrbug]

Hello I can request a Headcannon from Law, Ace, Luffy having a reader who loves hats, that's how each one would react to seeing the reader wearing someone else's hat. ♥️

THIS IS SO CUTE IM CHEWING ON THIS REQUEST SO HARD :[[[[ !! i don't know what ace's hat's backstory is my apologies. i think he just saw it one day and was like uhh fuck yes ? and stole it.

«─────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ───────────»

Luffy

▸ Luffy loves his hat. You love Luffy's hat. Luffy loves you. These three key factors lead into one situation; you wearing his hat whenever possible.

▸ His hat is literally the most important thing Luffy owns. It is literally the physical manifestation of his dream, and his "crown".

▸ So, naturally, you getting to wear his hat is the highest privilege. He's essentially trusting you with his dream.

▸ So when Luffy sees you wearing Brook's tophat.. He's a little distressed. Does this mean you like Brook more than him...? :[

▸ Hes not absolutely heartbroken, but it stirs something new and unpleasant in his gut. (jealousy). He plops his hat on your head and everything's fine again :]

Ace + Law under the cut!

Ace

▸ HE IS SO PETTY. AND JEALOUS. AND HE REFUSES TO COMMUNICATE IT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON.

▸ So naturally Ace shows the whole world you're his by placing the biggest statement piece of his outfit on you. The hat.

▸ But if you voluntarily want to wear the hat? Wear a piece of him on you because you just. Like it? Ace is on his KNEES. He struggles to feel wanted and to know that you love having a part of him with you??? Its so good. It soothes his soul.

▸ So of course the minute you meet Sabo, one of the closest people to Ace's heart- You destroy him emotionally. Hes devastated, betrayed, absolutely heartbroken.

▸ How could you wear Sabo's stupid little tophat ??? with the goggles that don't even serve a purpose??? Ace is disgruntled. He's offended. And he will be giving you the silent treatment for an hour tops before he comes crawling back.

▸ His hat is practically shoved onto your head. He's still mad, still has that little green monster clawing at his insides, but he's calmer with his oversized (equally stupid) hat perched on your head.

Law

▸ Law's hat is So important to him. It was given to him by his parents, so naturally to even BEGIN to earn the right to touch his hat is a Long, arduous journey.

▸ But once you've wormed your way into Law's heart- every part of him is yours. Including that sweet, warm hat.

▸ Law loves how you look in any of his clothes. He has a possessive streak a mile long, and no matter how good he is at hiding it he ALWAYS has a little smirk on his face when you wear anything thats his.

▸ The hat just ramps this up to 11. Something That core to his appearance, identity- unmistakably HIS, on you, who is now also unmistakably his? A dream come absolutely true.

▸ So naturally when hes sees the captian of the fucking strawhats putting his .. straw hat on you, Law nearly explodes. The straw hat is unmistakably LUFFY'S. The straw hat that is LUFFY'S, which is now on your head. Law short circuts. Seriously considers ending the alliance here and now by swapping Luffy's head and leg.

▸ He comes to a ... Peaceful? resolution when His hat is placed on its rightful pedestal... and Luffy (and hat) are out of his line of sight.

[m4rs-ex3]

s7 spoilers ✨✨

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ok

"death alive" fucking snipe me the insane death motif that seems to be present here is killing me pun intended

GRAAAHAHAHHGROWLS IM SO EXCITED I CAN TEVEN

"i don't want to be separated again"

"i don't want to be separated again"

stop it right tf now bc this is literally what i have been wanting one of them to say so badly. also smooch. dear christ

the fact that terry wants so badly for him and claudia to be free that he is pleading with fucking archmage aaravos himself. like ik they're partners in crime atp but still my guy has balls. the dedication. poor thing 😭

aaravos fucking leading claudia on with even more hope of viren being saved - his own backstory making the way he's manipulating her grief 10x more twisted - and terry seeing right through his bullshit..... im foaming at the mouth

fuckin.g- FOR ME?!?!?!?!?!?

CALLUM SOBBING OVER EZRAN??? (dreamer's nightmare was prepping us for this huh)

SOREN APOLOGIZING TO CALLUM?? (for what i do not know) EMOTIONAL CALLUM/SOREN HUG DEAR GOD ALL IVE EVER WANTED

the making of a primal stone, more moon magic, a quest for an ingredient, insane biblical imagery... once again, FOR ME??!?!?!?!??!

"AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!!!"

NECROMANCY!! just what this show needed omg

astrid my love. i was a little worried post-s6/pre-date announcement that we really wouldn't see that much, if any, of the celestial elves, but oh ho ho i can't believe i ever doubted you tdp. like you're telling me that astrid is tired of watching, of being the wise observers (especially now that her own brother has been so far removed from, well, being a non-all-seeing prophet), and that all she wants is to, for once, do something about all the tragedy she knows is coming and hasn't been able to do anything about? christmas fucking morning i tell you

goddamn the true extent and emphasized tragedy of katolis has been brought up enough that you just know they're not messing around

NO STOP SEEING SARAI AND HARROW NEXT TO GROWN AND CURRENTLY FCUKED UP EZRAN IS GOING TO FUCKING DEMOLISH ME

obviously ez being angry is just wow omg teehee but just. immediately being so vengeful and wanting to "destroy him" with zero hang-ups is.......... yeah wow omg teehee

"it's great!" i genuinely trust that with my life

ok hello this will most certainly be the most incredible visual to ever exist holy shit. also this is making me realize that we've never actual seen ez on the throne in arc 2 and i mean that's insane enough

this is incredible what can i say. i can see it now: rayla shoving worms in his face like "JUST EAT THE FUCKING WORMS ITS GOOD FOR YOU ASSHOLE" and runaan fighting her like a toddler refusing to eat his vegetables (except it's the opposite bc it's a vegetarian father refusing to eat his grubs)

i love how out of touch aaravos is (makes sense after centuries underneath inside of a rock) bc in what world is this normal. i highly doubt they have snow white or the bible but still it's just human nature to be weirded tf out by that. also yes @zuppizup ur so right his affinity for fruit being played on is amazing

also corvus: yeah yeah uh huh right and what exactly is your name, sir? aaravos: ah yes my name! it's uh uhh i mean it's uhhhhhhhhhhh. jofus

TWO IN THE FIRST EPISODE (which worries me but anyhow) IN THE FORM OF A GOODBYE AND A REUNION AND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE TOO???? AS A TREAT??????????

i'm all for ezran ripping runaan to shreds but i can't exactly say i see the correlation here. although that is kinda funny. it's like when i can't find my phone or smth so i just look at my dog and go "whiskey did you eat it" (she's been asleep this whole time and also she has never eaten/chewed on an object in her life)

also help inigo montoya ahh

ok 1) i, much like everyone else, kinda presumed that the tension would mostly be between ezran and callum and he wouldn't really hold anything against rayla, but the act of straight up arresting him really makes me wonder how rayla's gonna react 2) i really need to see callum's reaction (mainly out of defending rayla, but also because i can see him kinda being like "HEY i JUST freed him bro fuck you") and 3) the way that it is emphasized that soren is the one to arrest him..... idk i just figured that between his love for rayla, his own daddy issues (+the fact that viren was the one to imprison him so it would kinda be like righting his wrong), and that harrow was in fact not his father so compared to ezran he'd have a lot less resentment (he was of course still his king and soren had to actually watch it so still some but like. comparatively) i didn't think he'd be this combative but i'm certainly not complaining. the more angst the merrier

AW YEAH BOYS SHES COMING TO KATOLIS!!!!!

this has been your incoherent, feral mars commentary.* thank you

[grenade-maid]

Signalis, Authority, and History

There's a level of nuance to how Signalis presents the violence of the authority of the nation that doesn't call attention to itself but which I really appreciate. Which is basically just, all the officers and cops and spies who make life hell for people like the Gestalt mine workers, Ariane, and the Itou family--we get little glimpses into who they are in Adler and Kolibri's diaries and despite the propaganda and the authoritative tone they take in official communications, for the most part they don't seem to actually be particularly invested in the hard line of national ideology. They uphold it though, viciously, both because things were worse under imperial rule (we don't get hard details on what it was like but it's mentioned in passing enough that I believe it) and because they're scared that if they don't they will be decommissioned and easily replaced. They are literally stamped out of a production line after all. There's a subtext of well, if I don't do it my replacement will anyway and I'm not trying to die so what's the point of rocking the boat?

I think Kolibri stands out to me most clearly on this because in communications from the block warden regarding Ariane there is emphasis put on how it is unacceptable and suspicious that she should be so interested and invested in art and literature that does not serve the purpose of furthering the goals of the nation. But we know that Kolibris themselves are bookworms, Adlers are fiends for stimulating experiences, and both get miserable FAST when deprived of art and puzzles and entertainment and hobbies. Y'know, just like anyone. Far be it from being a paragon of The Nation only interested in productive labor, we are reminded that the block warden, too, hates this shitty town and wants to transfer but is denied. They're hypocrites, but not monsters, nor brainwashed puppets of the state.

The monstrousness at play is not contained within any particular subset of evil individuals, or even an inherent universal force of evil contained in the broad notion of The Nation. There is no cosmic evil force that makes them all do these things to each other. The monstrousness is within the social systems, the mechanisms of how authority perpetuates on a structural procedural level, held in place by fear and tangible threats of violence, each link in the chain restraining the next through those threats out of fear that if they don't, then they'll be next. Regardless how many, if any, of those people in this chain are true dogmatic hardliners, they must act as such because failing to do so opens them up to danger.

Here then I think of the quote that is so prominent, "Great holes secretly are digged where earth’s pores ought to suffice, and things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl", from Lovecraft's The Festival. This is not just a chilling abstract visual that conveniently evokes a mineshaft-- in Lovecraft's story, this line refers to worms which ate the decomposing bodies of wizards whose wretched souls had remained after death, complete with the terrible powers they gained through contracts with demons. Those worms inherited both their power, and also the evil. The Nation, despite having overthrown the Empire, is built on imperial technology, in particular Replikas and bioresonance. So too, then, we can imply that The Nation inherited with those things some of the monstrousness of The Empire as well. There is no end of history, nor clean break with the past, no matter how violently it may seem to be rejected. That which remains from the past--and something inevitably always does--creates the present.

This is a game that is not shy about evoking East Germany. And I think all of this provides a sophisticated picture of repressive authority that we rarely see in fiction of the English speaking world, especially in games. The year the S23 incident takes place is notably 84, but, frankly, I find this to be more compelling and illustrative than 1984 (and I'm a librarian and have taught English classes so I get to say that). Orwell, let's be honest, presents a fairly one dimensional picture of authority, where people seize power and wield it against others out of seeming mustache twirling evil or malice.

Here though we get a more humanistic view. Authority did not come from nowhere and is not wielded arbitrarily out of gleeful cruelty or mindless brainwashed allegiance. People aren't "just following orders". Individuals have rich inner lives. They make decisions, and those decisions are based in the context they're in. Even the decision to carry repressive tools of the past into the present is a decision that was made strategically with the big picture in mind. Nobody woke up and decided to be evil that day. Everyone operates on self interest, and, we must assume, an earnest desire for things to get better. Even the [spoiler] program which served as an inspirational demonstration of The Nation's power, you can imagine the chain of officers and bureaucrats who genuinely wanted the people of the nation to believe in the future, to confidently trust that everyone was working together towards something great and beautiful. And, through a long chain of those people who couldn't say "No" without being decommissioned, we ended up with something unbelievably cruel.

We get to know Adler and Kolibri and the other officers not to say well they're human too, maybe it wasn't so bad that they condemned all those people to agonizing suffering, but to remember that if we keep looking for true monsters we will not find them. There are no monsters and there are no demons. There are only people making decisions. A better world is possible. A better world, where Adler is just a paper pusher who does puzzles after work instead of signing papers to authorize torture, where Kolibris are librarians instead of spies and cops, where EULEs can gossip and play piano and ARARs can do maintenance on facilities that don't contain torture rooms, is one that would not have led to the Ariane and Elster's tragic cycle and ultimate end.

Authority and its attendant cruelty is not contained, radiating forth from The Great Revolutionary and Her Daughter, it is within the social systems of control. When those two women die, that cruelty will continue so long as those social systems continue. Like Lovecraft's worms, no matter how long dead the evil of the past is, so long as it continues to be fed upon, that evil will not only remain, but evolve into something new in the present. A better world can't be achieved through the death of the old world alone, even if violent overthrow is warranted. There is no end of history. There is no clean break from the past.

"Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living."

Karl Marx, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte

[lilyginnyblackv2]

“Two Heterosexual Men”- Buddy Daddies - Episode 8 - SPOILERS!

Saw someone on r/anime describe Kazuki and Rei like this in the comments on a post. Like, I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt that they made that comment before Episode 8 dropped. But, if they didn’t, I’m seriously just sitting her thinking how? The subtext this episode was astronomical:

First we have the parallel of Yuzuko (who is slightly older) finding Kazuki (who is slightly younger) at his lowest point and Kazuki (who is slightly older) finding Rei (who is slightly younger) at his lowest point:

Both of these meetings took place around “flowers” that have ties to romantic love. Hydrangeas mean “true geniune love” and Mistletoe (the name of Kyu’s cafe) is associated with kissing under.

Then we have the fact that Rei states he found something to protect, mirroring the man that was essentially his teacher, whose person he wanted to protect was a woman that was heavily assumed to be his wife:

Yes, of course, Miri is present there too. And Miri is a factor (she is part of his family), but the parallels being drawn here are to the significant other.

Just like how we were meant to also make a connection to Satoru losing his significant other to a hit like Kazuki did (even if Yuzuko’s death was an unintended result, it doesn’t change the fact that it happened).

That’s why we are meant to feel so scared for Kazuki, because he is being paralleled to all of these other significant others who were killed due to their connections to a hitman for a spouse/partner.

Add in Rei’s fierce desire to keep Kazuki out of his father’s and the organization’s business, along with Rei stating that Kazuki didn’t mean much to him at first, but then Kazuki basically wormed his way into Rei’s heart because of how he cared for him. And, of course, there is plenty on Kazuki’s side towards Rei too, like Episode 7 where he makes the deliberate choice to move forward with his new family and to continue to stay with not only Miri, but Rei too. Rei is just as important to him. 

Both Kazuki and Rei fear that the other has abandoned them and they don’t like it.

And, like, I’m not saying people have to view their relationship romantically, I still view it as queerplatonic and likely always will, but when people are like “They are just two HERTEROSEXUAL men” it is them trying to throw out and deny any queer reading of the relationship dynamic between Kazuki and Rei.

Even though all of the parallels and subtext (that is practically text at this point) is literally right there.

Like, the series can hardly be any clearer about this at this point.

[sneppu]

Thoughts on the Sneep fandom itself (not Sneep thoughts, but rather thoughts about thoughts about the Sneep thoughts)

ah but the truth is that The snapetwt is offputting to me, its so different from The Sneep environment here on tumblr or on bluesky. I think its because people on there are The Youths™ and they come across as just?? oddly overaggressive about literally everything to me? even if they probably arent at all! but my not-great-at-reading-tone ass sees all the yelling and hyperbole and it flags The Conflict alarm in my brain and im just like... everyone is scary. But to be fair its not unique to The Sneep side of it, it seems true for most of the hp fandom on twt it seems? or maybe just twitter in general (though i dont feel the ff7 fandom was like this??) idk. also I dont like how often I see reposted art and the like; sometimes its credited, but in a way where it doesnt actually help find the artist? like bro, say the site they're on at LEAST. I also highly doubt they've gotten permission to repost to begin with but thats a whole other can of worms But here on tumblr (and also bluesky) everything is calm, for the most part. I feel like a simple farmer, tending to a harvest of Sneeps, whom I've planted for the village, and every once in a while, someone comes by and takes a Sneep. twitter is like a crowded market full of yelling, agitated people, and theres Sneeps, but you are likely to die 5000 times on the way to the Sneep. its what it feels like at least. But an exception is the eastern Sneep fandom, where people are calm and post their Sneeps and muse about silly little Sneep things. somehow, despite the language barrier, I've felt more drawn to interact with the Korean Sneep Fandom than I have with the the general western Sneep fandom.

uhhh basically:

twitter is shitty, I know this

BUT ff7 twitter has been mostly very peaceful for me always

BUT BUT ff7 twitter - at least in the circles im in - has an older fanbase on average

ALSO korean sneep twitter is also very calm and enjoyable

CONCLUSION: its a western youth thing (does check out with other things ive noticed in general)

ALSO CONCLUSION: hp twt specifically, seems more prone to this, a lot of it seems to come from mstans i think?

VERDICT: the environment doesnt really vibe with me at all, and it all seems so exhausting. I'm glad I found my little niche in korean Sneep twt bc my god, I'd be so cooked otherwise.

[lakesbian]

rachel and alec are specifically interesting to me re the undersider Situations as of early worm posting. thats right for the first time in my life im saying rachel specifically is interesting to me. everyone on the team is at least a bit lonely i think but it's so loud and obvious with rachel, because she's loud and obvious about everything. she's a disabled teen who's been homeless since she was very young. she was deeply abused by the foster home system, and the legal system responded to her wounded and confused outbursts as an autistic child by criminalizing her and hunting her down. she can't exist in public without the cops being called. society has done everything to demonstrate that it doesn't want her, and then blames her when she doesn't trust people.

brian says that the undersiders are the closest thing she can have to friends. alec says that they're the closest thing she has to a family. (which is an entire can of worms in itself wrt alec's relation to the undersiders.) and both of those things are true, but there's also something so tragic in their assumption that their tenuous connection w/ rachel where she can only just barely tolerate them is the best she can ever have. they're the only people she can even remotely trust to have her back or treat her somewhat fairly instead of fucking her over, but they're still fundamentally considering her beyond close connection, less of a friend or someone to attempt befriending and more of someone to keep on a leash. of course taylor is the only one to actually get close to her--taylor is the only one who tries to engage with her, as a person, on rachel's own terms, instead of begrudgingly tolerating her. rachel :(

& alec is the other team member who's in the Extra Lonely Isolation Club...he gets silly with the team sometimes, he has his little teenage banter w/ brian, he and lisa are clearly very familiar with each other in the way ppl who've been living together for a year and a half are. it's really good for him. it's the first time in his entire life he's gotten to have a consistent home with his own belongings, and he's getting to have it because he's part of the undersiders. the undersiders are literally the first people in his entire life that approach counting as a friendship. he gets SO FUCKING MAD!!! when he leaps to assuming that rachel stole the money from them. he gets So Mad he immediately goes "i vote we kill her" and then goes on a seething rant about how he wouldn't have thought she'd do that since the undersiders are the closest she has to family, but apparently she would. and the projection is so obvious! he's not wrong about applying the sentiment to rachel, but there's a reason he goes farther than brian's "closest she has to friends" and into the more intimate territory of "closest she has to family"--the two-way street there means that the undersiders are the closest he has to family, and the idea of being betrayed by one of them hurts enough to trigger the aggression he always displays when he's feeling vulnerable.

and he still doesn't tell them Jack Shit. he obviously lies to them all the fucking time, because brian is under the impression that he "dropped out" of school, when the reality is that he never went. even lisa brings up heartbreaker to taylor without any awareness that he's the father of the boy she's been living with for over a year. alec spends most of the early arcs in worm in dissociative, depressed fugues. the other undersiders have lengthy conversations where they're sharing personal info and he's just trailing along behind them, not speaking for so long that even the readers can forget he's there. lonely broken little shell of a boy who is so empty all of the time and does not even know it. aisha cannot get here fast enough if i have to see him being depressed and disconnected for one (1) more chapter i will explode

[viennacherries]

WIP Tag Game

omg this is so exciting i've never been tagged in one of these before!! thank you @darkurgetrash for the tag i love u <3

gonna tag a couple of the besties: @cakeboxie @drizztdohurtin @underdark-dreams and all of my other moots who do writing <3 or if you don't write show us your art wips!!!

~~~

It's not like you didn't already know this, but it's becoming increasingly apparent that Rolan is not a patient person.

You'd managed to find a spot with a rock outcropping that made a good enough shelter. The problem is, for both of you to fit under it, it's a little cramped. But you didn't want either of you sat out in the open where anything could spot you, so you'd reluctantly backed up to the wall and against Rolan's side.

It's a bit maddening, being this close to him. His scent fills your nostrils (he smells like weave and something musky, like sandalwood), which is incredibly distracting, and up close you notice he's covered in freckles. They cover his cheeks and forehead and climb their way up to his ears. He's also taken his hair down, which is frankly rather rude of him. It looks soft.

What's ruder is the fact that he literally cannot sit still. His legs bounce where they're stretched out in front of him, and every few minutes he adjusts his posture with a loud groan.

When his leg starts bouncing again for the umpteenth time, your hand shoots out and grabs his knee on its own accord to hold it down. He jumps at the contact and whips his head towards you, and the look of alarm he's wearing would be funny if he wasn't driving you insane.

"Rolan. If you don't stop fidgeting I'll stop you myself."

He frowns. "I can't help it."

You arch an eyebrow, "right, so you want me to hold you down for the rest of the evening? Because I will."

His face flushes and he shakes his head no, so you withdraw your hand. You feel his body relax next to you.

"You may as well try and get some sleep. I can keep watch and wake you up when it's safe to move."

He clears his throat, "that won't be necessary. I'm fine."

You scoff. He's definitely not fine, he's been wiggling around since you both sat down. You tell him as such and the blush rises back to his cheeks.

"I'm not- That's not why I'm-" He sighs "I'm fine."

"Ah, yes. People who are fine usually writhe around like worms."

He scowls at you, but doesn't say anything. At that moment you feel a shiver rip through you. His face softens with concern.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself, "I'm fine."

He pulls a face at you. "Ah, yes. People who are fine usually shake like leaves."

Okay, in fairness, you walked right into that one.

"I'm okay, honestly. I'm just a bit cold."

You hadn't really thought about it when you left the inn, hopped up on adrenaline, but now you're sat here you've begun to realise you're not dressed for the chill. You're wearing a pair of light trousers and an old sweater with holes in the sleeves; the clothes you sleep in. It was fine when you were racing around looking for Rolan and fighting shadow creatures, but now that you're sat still with your back up against rock the cold is seeping into your body.

Rolan looks you up and down a few times, then makes a noise of frustration. "Gods, I'm sorry. I should've thought to- I haven't got enough magic left to cast anything to keep you warm."

"It's fine, I'll manage. Besides, you're like a furnace."

It's true, you can feel the warmth from his body where his arm is pressed up against yours. You've trying not to think about it, but it's getting harder to focus on anything else.

There's a moment of silence, and a look of hesitation in Rolan's eye, before he lifts the arm that's against you and instead wraps it around your shoulder. You flinch.

"What are you doing?"

He's blushed again. "Well. We- tieflings, that is- we naturally run hotter. And I got you into this predicament, so the least I can do is stop you from catching pneumonia."

You try desperately to think of an argument that stops him pulling you closer, but you come up empty. You're cold and he's warm, and he smells nice and his hair looks soft, and you are a weak, weak woman.

When you don't say anything else, he tentatively stretches his arm back around your shoulder, and places his hand there awkwardly. You pull a face at him.

"That can't be comfortable, your wrist is at an angle."

He shrugs, which makes you sigh. You grab his hand where it rests on your shoulder blade and manoeuvre yourself so that you're resting your head against his chest. You wrap his arm around you and push yourself against him. He freezes.

There's a long moment where you wonder if you've overstepped a boundary, but then he's sinking himself down against the rock so you can better lean on his chest, and pulling you tight against the side of his body. There's a moment of hesitation before you feel him rest his chin on the top of your head.

His scent and warmth wraps around you and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. His chin on the top of your head is a comforting weight, and being surrounded by him like this feels... intimate. You like it.

"I'm sorry, Tav."

You frown, but don't move. "For what?"

He swallows heavily. "I really was unfair to you. It's not your fault Cal and Lia were taken. You're the only reason any of us made it this far in the first place. I lashed out and it wasn't fair."

You give a small shrug, as much as you can without shaking his arms from around you. There's a moment, and then he's moving anyway, turning to face you and holding both of your shoulders.

"Tav, I mean it. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry."

His eyes are piercing and you struggle to look away despite how intense his gaze is. "You were right. I'm not a leader. I just wanted to do what felt right, but I've put people in danger in the process."

He shakes his head, "I wasn't right. The best leaders are the ones who didn't choose it. They're the people everyone follows because they believe in them." One of his hands comes down and grasps yours, and you feel your breath hitch. "People believe in you, Tav. I... I believe in you."

You don't know how to reply to that, so you don't. Another shiver rips its way through your body, and Rolan wraps both of his arms around you and brings your head back to his chest.

"For warmth, of course." He says it softly.

You nod. "Of course." Your voice comes out quiet and breathless, and you feel Rolan shudder minutely.

A voice in the back of your head tells you that you're walking a fragile line, that you're slowly inching your way over it. That once you cross it there's no going back. The warmth of his embrace must be clouding your judgement, though, because you find you don't care.